


what you need

by NOHARDFEELINGS



Series: head over heels [2]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, T'Challa is freaky, and yall already know Erik is, not really but there's a risk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 00:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14124648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NOHARDFEELINGS/pseuds/NOHARDFEELINGS
Summary: T’Challa was supposed to leave a half an hour ago, but he let Erik distract him with kisses until that wasn’t enough.





	what you need

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is a part of my college AU, but you don't have to read it to understand it. It's just a quick dirty PWP to practice writing lol. If you did read my college AU, this takes place after the fic when they're in an established relationship.

There weren’t many sights better than T’Challa on his knees.

Erik wasn’t a sentimental or poetic person, but there was something fucking _lovely_ about T’Challa in front of him with his mouth stuffed full of his dick. The sight did amazing things to his ego and he was already a cocky bastard, so at this point his vanity levels had to be sky high.

The thought makes him laugh and T’Challa looks up from beneath those long fluttery lashes to give Erik a questioning look.

“You’re doin’ great, T.” Erik rolls his hips up to illustrate his point. 

T’Challa has somewhere to be. Actually, they both have somewhere to be, but T’Challa’s appointment is more important. He was supposed to attend some fancy dinner with his family so he can schmooze with the guests and impress them with how bright he is. He was supposed to leave a half an hour ago, but he let Erik distract him with kisses until that wasn’t enough.

“You can’t leave me with blue balls. We’ll be really quick," Erik had said as he sprawled out on the couch and let his hand drift down to his basketball shorts. He slipped his hand under the waistband and took a hold of his hard dick. He bit his bottom lip and splayed his legs wide, pulling out some of the dirty tricks he used on T’Challa to get what he wanted. He wasn't above playing up his sexiness. Not if it got T'Challa to respond so well. “Come here and get on your knees for me.”

T’Challa had only taken a few seconds to consider before he knelt in front of Erik’s lap with a small smile on his face.

Now here Erik was, sitting in his living room where one of his housemates can decide to just come home early and they’d get to see T’Challa with his fancy suit on and his face buried in Erik’s Calvin Klein boxers.

Honestly, Erik would be doing them a damn favor if anybody got to see them like this.

The thought of getting caught sends a sharp jolt down Erik’s spine, and he loses his composure for a second and thrusts up, pushing his dick further into T’Challa’s slippery, perfect mouth.

“Come on, baby, take some more,” Erik says as his grip on the back of T’Challa’s neck tightens. He rubs his thumb at the base of the other man’s head in encouragement. “Can’t wait to come in that pretty mouth of yours.”

T’Challa moans through it because he loves that shit. Loves when Erik says filthy things and peppers pet names and sweet praises in-between. Loves the way Erik’s hips jerk up while his hand urges T’Challa down to stretch wider and take more of his dick.

The phone next to them suddenly begins vibrating and T’Challa pulls off, slightly panicked, with an obscene pop. He reaches for it, but Erik gets to it first. Erik stares down at the name ‘Baba’ accompanied by an innocent photo of T’Challa and his father on the caller ID.

“Looks like you’re late,” Erik smirks and strokes his dick with his free hand while T’Challa watches him with wide, blown out eyes. “Want me to tell pops you’re busy?”

T’Challa reaches for the phone and Erik pulls it away out of his reach at the last second. “Erik, give me the phone!”

Erik shrugs as he swipes the phone screen to answer the call. He holds the phone out for T’Challa who snatches it from him, leveling him with a look that meant he was probably going to give him a stern talking to when they were finished. It was worth it.

T’Challa holds the phone to his ear. “Hello? Yes, Baba?”

Erik stretches back on the couch, still tugging lazily at his dick as T’Challa begins a conversation full of excuses about why he was running late. Without taking a moment to reconsider, he reaches out to touch T’Challa’s full lips. He waits for T’Challa to stop talking and listen before he slips his thumb inside, past his lips and into his warm mouth. To his surprise, T’Challa licks his thumb and sucks gently on it for a while. Erik locks his gaze with the other man as he removes his wet thumb to smear the saliva over his already slick dick. T’Challa stares back and only looks away to stare at Erik’s hands as it moves.

“Fuckin’ dirty,” Erik's voice is pitched low and deep as he begins working his cock again. T’Challa grins and continues the conversation on the phone while Erik jerks his dick right in front of him.

It should feel wrong, doing this while T’Challa’s father was right there on the phone, but it only excites Erik. It makes his toes curl and his jaw slacken, and he’s already close to coming before T’Challa finally says his goodbyes and hangs up with a final promise to be there soon.

“You’re a freak,” Erik says as T’Challa drops the phone somewhere on the ground and dips his head down to lick Erik’s balls. Erik spreads his legs again to give him easier access. “That shit gets you off?”

T’Challa answers, but the sound of his voice is muffled between Erik’s legs and Erik is too far gone to ask him to repeat himself. T’Challa leaves his balls wet  and slick when he comes up for air and he looks so filthy – face wet, mouth open and panting, fancy white shirt in disarray – that Erik’s pace picks up. He strokes his dick faster, allowing T’Challa to mouth around under the head for a while before he feels his orgasm building.

“Stick your tongue out for me,” Erik all but demands, voice wrecked more than he’d ever like to admit. T’Challa backs up and opens his mouth. He sticks out his pink tongue and waits as his hands stroke Erik’s calves, urging him on. “Yeah, that’s it. You needy bi – Fuck, I’m gonna come!”

Erik’s movements still and he lets out a loud groan as his orgasm washes over him. T’Challa wriggles his tongue along the head of his dick and he’s rewarded with a splash of come that misses his tongue but paints his face. He moans and closes his eyes just in time for the second spurt to land across his long eyelashes.

The sight of his mess is enough to make Erik dizzy. He strokes out the last of his orgasm and the last few ropes of come are caught on T’Challa’s tongue. Erik rubs his dick on T’Challa’s face, smearing the come on his lips and over his cheekbones, marking him and painting him. T’Challa waits for Erik to finish coming before he moves forward to take his dick back into his mouth, milking him dry.

Afterwards, Erik places his arms behind his head and just watches as T’Challa cleans his softening erection with little kitten licks.

“Come up here,” Erik says after T’Challa is sated enough to leave his oversensitive cock alone.

"I'm so late." T’Challa rests his chin on Erik’s knees. “I need to go.”

Erik reaches for a few tissues from a tissue box on the coffee table and T’Challa dutifully closes his eyes as Erik wipes his come away. He has a pleased, innocent look on his face and Erik wishes he could get some pictures of T’Challa like this. He’d asked once but T’Challa was very much against it. He was going to be a big name one day and it wouldn’t serve him right to have nude photos of him splattered with his boyfriend’s come during his college years floating around online.

“Then why are you still kneeling here lookin’ relaxed like an overfed cat?”

“You’re right.” T’Challa opens his eyes and scrunches up his nose in a way that Erik _definitely_ does not find cute. “I need to wash my face, brush my teeth, and make a late appearance.”

“We got enough time for you to get yours,” Erik offers as he pats his lap. “I know all the tricks to get you on 10 fast.”

He wasn’t kidding. All he has to do is sit T’Challa in his lap and finger him while whispering hot, nasty shit in his ear for the other man to shoot off like a rocket in record time.

“Maybe I do not want to rush,” T’Challa says as he stands up and fixes his clothes. It was amazing to Erik how he regained his composure so quickly. But then again, he wasn’t the one who almost blacked out from coming too hard. “Besides, you owe me something big for performing that act of debauchery.”

“You liked it, T, so don’t act like this was all for me,” Erik scoffs just before T’Challa leans down to kiss him. Erik could still taste his come on T’Challa’s slick lips and a flash of what he looked like down on his knees with his face streaked with white makes something hot and heady bloom in the pit of Erik’s stomach. When T’Challa pulls back, he runs a thumb over Erik’s lips and Erik bites it gently.

“I did like it,” T’Challa admits before he moves to step back. “You’re bringing forth desires I’d only fantasized about.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Erik flashes his teeth with a grin. “Now hurry up before your dad comes here looking for you.”

T’Challa smiles at him and rushes up the stairs to clean up.

 


End file.
